


Nothing left to live for

by Creedsteriostic



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creedsteriostic/pseuds/Creedsteriostic
Kudos: 1





	Nothing left to live for

"Victor!", Victoria yelled, quickly rustling through the cabinets for something that at least had alcohol in it. This man gets on my damn nerves she thought, the thought expressing through her face, but soon softened when her son appeared at the door frame.  
"What do you need?", Victor asked, his voice early to deepen. Victoria thought of her husband immediately as soon as her eyes focused on her youngest son. But, not the bad things, the good, handsome man she once knew from her husband. The way he used to be, charming, funny, a man of worth, hardworking, before the alcohol, the psychosis, paranoia. His nose, full lips, cheeks, and expressions reflected that of his father, and Victoria took immediate note. But yet, Victor had his own, "special" features. When some of his baby teeth had fallen out, they were replaced rather quickly with elongated canines. This struck to her as the most odd, especially with his fingernails, or more, almost, like, claws? She was starting to notice some traits of herself in him, as Victor held a soft innocence. His love for the quiet and the unknown reflected from her into him. But, what bothered her the most, was at only 9, she was able to identify, and rather quickly, her husband's features in him.  
"Do you know where your father put his drinks? He's gonna throw a darn fit like a baby if he doesn't have them by now." She reached her arm to the back of the cabinet, huffing in annoyance.   
Victor pointed to the corner of the kitchen, leaning his body against the frame, " Is that it?"  
Victoria looked quickly to the corner, her eyes catching a small crate of a few brown bottles. Relief blew through her lips as she walked to them. "Thank you Victor." She grabbed the bottles quickly, placing them on the countertop with a careless thud.   
"Momma, sometimes I feel as if yer blind, like our dog. "  
" Now Victor, it's called getting older. My eyes just don't wor-"  
" You ain't that old momma. Yer hair ain't grey. " Victor looked at her, a soft, innocent look that reminded Victoria that there is some good left in this world, in her life.  
" I appreciate your remarks Victor. Go back to whatever you was up to. "  
Her son turned around and left the kitchen, Victoria watching him as their older than old dog stumbled into the wall, Victor setting him back to his path to the kitchen. Her boy is growing too quickly for his own good, and her's. Victor wanted to resume to his activities, which was messing with the dog, but he knew better then to that around his momma. He wasn't mean to it, just liked to pick at him and confuse him.   
As soon as he walked through his door frame to his room, his father stumbled loudly, and quite aggressively, past him through the tight hallway, spitting out profanities. Victor quickly hid into his room, sighing quietly in relief. His room was the only place of comfort to be in the large house. His father seemed to not notice it, which kept Victor at ease. He shut his door, careful to not make any noise. Victor looked at his room, his small, and rather uncomfortable room. Despite it being a shelter of comfort from his father's rambles and drunken screams, it just looked uncomfortable and at unease. It resembled the boy who it held. Anger tapped lightly through the creaking floors, reflecting the boy's growing frustration. Footsteps broke Victor's thoughts, startling him.  
"Where the hell is my damn whiskey Victoria?!"  
Victor quickly put his ear against the door, unable to resist the urge to hear everything, especially if his father was going to be walking by.  
"It's right here darl'. I'm sorry it took awhile to find it." Victoria handed the alcohol to Zebadiah from her shaking, sweating hands. She avoided looking at him, and kept her eyes at the ground, desperate for something, or someone, to break the conversation.  
"Ya no damn good for nuthin' wife.", he mumbled, stumbling back to his room, through the hallway and up the stairs that hold scruffs and scratches from kicking and drunken falling.Victoria, nervous and round up, tried to distract her mind with what she was supposed to be doing before her husband's needs got in the way: making a pie for Luther's birthday. That's what he wanted, and demanded, with his father by his side protesting the same. Victoria gathered herself by ruffling her hair, straightening her apron, and thinking of her beloved youngest son. With a new mindset settled, she focused on her task.   
When Victor heard his father's heavy steps, he quickly rushed to the window, just in case he entered. After a few hot seconds, he hurried back to the door and waited for a noise. When nothing was heard, he went straight to his bed, and sat there. He could sit there for minutes upon hours, contemplating of killing his father, and imagining ways he could leave. He was simply too scared to try. He knows his father is too big of a man to be able to kill easily. Victor has seen his strength against walls and chairs. He wandered to leaving, and how his life would be oh so wonderful by simply running away. He could find a new family, or he could steal or maybe even just live in the woods by himself. It made him feel excited, like a soon to be event. Anticipation crept from his head to his feet, leaving goosebumps on its trail. It feels so easy, but, what about his mother? She'd be left with him, and his spoiled rotten brother. God did Victor hate his brother. He hated how he was older than him, how he was looked at by his father, how he was able to do math and read sentences. His brother, Luther, made him feel ugly, worthless, like picked off toppings.   
Luther always was talked to like he was wanted, especially from his father. Even when his father was drunk, he spoke to him almost kindly. Momma was the only one who loved and treated Victor right. She always hugged and kissed him, telling him he'll be all right and safe. Victor only cared for his mother. Tears gathered at his eyes, threatening to fall at any thought. He shut off his feelings and wiped his eyes. He got from his bed, stretching his arms up to the high ceiling, and pushed his legs from him as far as they would go. When he started to see stars, he stopped, and yawned. Playing in the stream of water in the woods crossed his mind, quickly making his child mind excited. He walked hurriedly to his door, but quietly, and carefully, went to open the door. When his hand touched the knob, he remembered: He hated Luther because today was his birthday.


End file.
